One

The moon had fully emerged from behind gray clouds, bathing the night in unholy shadows. An unnatural breeze ruffled the branches of trees and shook the shutters of windows. Few cars sped down the silent road, even fewer businesses remained open. Beacon Hills had never seemed so deadly.

The woman pulled her jacket tighter around her body, briskly heading towards the end of the street. Damn the rookie that had encroached upon her territory yet again. She furiously dug her keys out of her pocket as her silver BMW came into view. He had been there all of two months and now the rookie had her boss around his finger. Well, they both could…She looked over her shoulder uneasily, pausing in her non- vocal rant. She had heard something, she was sure of it. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as a low growl resonated from between two buildings. Eyes not wavering from the direction of the sound, she quickly pulled out a small switch blade. She raised it before her, jaw quivering.

"Come out coward. I'll give you something to growl about." She stammered.

To that she received a blood chilling cackle…no….cackles. Several voices joined the first in a terror laden song of malicious laughter several of these female. The woman took a hasty step back, but it was already too late. A petite girl danced from the shadows, a malicious glint in her eyes and a coy smile playing on her lips.

"… I guess you will suffice for now. Though I do loathe the bitter ones… their blood does not sit well with my stomach." The girl appraised.

"P-Please I have children…a new baby in fact." The woman pleaded as several older men and females emerged behind the girl. She simply grinned wider, flashing sharp canines.

"Nice try, but I don't like liars all that much either, sadly now my friends will have to defend my honor and kill you. But before I lose my play toy I need information. Do you know anything about the Hale family?"

The woman was shaking down to her heels. Tears filled her eyes as she gulped for air. "Only one Hale is still alive…but I believe he will be leaving soon."

"Oh… I'm afraid he won't. Like you he will soon be dead. Anything else?"

The woman was now in hysterics, back pressed against her car. She racked her brain for anything that could save her life. It hit her just as a hand wrapped around her neck. She swallowed the guilt for what she was about to do. "The sheriff's son… he's involved with him." She choked.

The girl considered this before waving her hand dismissively. She turned back into the shadows as the first scream split the night.

Two

Stiles groaned and rolled over. He could finally breathe easy, finally take time to reorganize his screwed up life. He couldn't blame Scott for how damaged he had become, but he could be pissed that the guy had once again ran to his psycho bipolar girlfriend instead of checking on his best friend. It wouldn't hurt to make sure the human best friend was mentally and emotionally stable would it? The past few months have pushed him to his limit: the lying, the death, the destruction, the pain… it was all too much. The danger his father had been in… had the man gotten hurt he would not have been able to live with himself.

Sighing he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his mattress. He briefly stretched before padding out of his room to the bathroom down the hall. He paused before the mirror, lightly touching where the cuts and bruises stood prominently. Gerard really was a twisted bastard, but hadn't they played into his hands? He'd allowed them to steal the bestiary, to lead him to the kanima, to inadvertently kill Ms. Argent. The entire time they struggled to stay ahead they had always been behind. Then to kidnap him… that was the only flaw. Scott cared for Stiles, but he would not sacrifice his mother's life or – he hated to admit it- his love for Allison for him. He would eventually come to Stiles' aid, but if his life was not in danger Stiles had only his wits to save him. Gerard had failed to realize this crucial detail. He had let him go free- battered, but free. Had he tortured him, with Scott fully aware that he would be murdered, Gerard would have possibly won.

He tensed, hearing a soft thud in his room. Heart pounding, he crept toward the cracked door, praying it was Scott. He nudged the door open with his foot, unsure what to do. Unease pooled in his stomach at the dark void that was his bedroom. He took a step inside and immediately wished he hadn't. His bedroom door slammed shut, a hand clamped over his mouth, his arm was twisted back as his body slammed against the door. He squirmed, eyes locking onto the fiery red orbs before him. His heart began running relays, fear permeating the air. The wolf growled, fangs elongating, nails lightly piercing the skin.

"Stiles", the voice barked, "calm your ass down. I need your help."

That voice…Derek. Of course; only Derek would attack him like this demanding help. He attempted to control his heart rate. Derek immediately released him, retreating to the window. Stiles glared, rubbing his sore arm.

"Nice to see you too Sour wolf. You know, physically hurting the guy that saved your furry butt isn't all that nice. Huh- furry butt? Yeah, I might use that later on. Still, what do you want?" he grumbled.

Derek's eyes burned red, never losing their intensity. He crossed his arms furiously. " I need your help."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah I kind of got that part. What do you need help with? Goodness you're worse than Scott."

He growled at the mention of the treacherous omega. "I need information about a pack. More specifically, an Alpha pack."

Stiles' jaw dropped, eyes widening. His heart began pounding yet again. A pack of alpha werewolves… holy hell! "Derek…what aren't you telling me?"

The wolf was silent, brooding as usual. Well Stiles had had enough. That was one of the things he'd come to hate about everyone – the distrust. You couldn't pledge trust to a person one minute and keep them in the dark the rest of the time. That was how things worked in a team- in a pack. He had harbored a false hope that all that had transpired with the kanima at least taught them that.

"You know what? No I'm not doing this anymore Derek. Either I know everything or you get nothing." He deadpanned.

The alpha was on him in seconds, half transformed in fury. One hand gripped his throat roughly. Derek pushed him to the floor, keeping that firm grip. Stiles sputtered, a brief wave of panic washing over him before disappearing. After all this time Stiles knew that Derek would never actually harm him, threaten definitely, but not hurt. It was how Derek never put much force behind his antics that clued him in; he never squeezed his windpipe or even left noticeable bruises to reinforce how deadly he really was.

"I don't have time for this, Stiles! Will you help me or not?" he spoke through gritted teeth.

Stiles held his gaze evenly. "I will, but I need to know everything. After everything. After everything that has happened you can't trust me? Is that how it really works?" he averted his gaze, hurt. "I- I know that with Scott things are shaky, but I have always tried to help. I was hoping that as a team we'd be honest."

He felt Derek stand and sat up. He looked up to see the crimson irises slowly returning to their natural hazel. The wolf reached down and pulled him gently to his feet. He stumbled a bit before Derek steadied him. The older man took a step back and began pacing the floor pensively.

Finally, he spoke. "It was last week after the warehouse incident. Peter, Jackson, and I returned to my house only to find a symbol on the door. Peter said it was the mark of the Alpha pack, but that was all. I have no knowledge of such a thing… normally packs have one alpha and several betas. Then Erica and Boyd returned scared out of their minds, but even if I ordered them to tell me what happened they couldn't. It's as if the alpha's told them not to."

Stile's felt it then. The panic that had always been beneath the surface. His skin felt cold, ice in his veins. His throat began to close, brain whirring. His heart was breaking through his ribs, the pain doubling him over. He hadn't had a panic attack in years, not since seventh grade actually. The fig crept before his eyes and he began shaking. It would never end would it? When would Beacon Hills ever be safe again? The last dilemma nearly wiped them all out and now a group of alphas was descending upon them? He was human! He wasn't built for this; could never level up to this. His father, his friends- they would all die. Everyone he loved would die.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders, a concerned voice breaking through the fog. "Stiles! Stiles stay with me!"

It hurt, but he reached for the voice, reached and pulled until his lungs began to expand naturally and his eyes readjusted. He was quivering in Derek's arms. Derek, who was holding him protectively. He sighed, feeling unconsciousness sweep over him. "I'll help you.", he whispered before passing out.